


Blue Rock (From Lapis' Perspective)

by OneTrueCombo



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Edgy, Gay Space Rock, I Idenity Way Too Much With the Gay Space Rock, Ow the Edge, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 16:17:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14897864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneTrueCombo/pseuds/OneTrueCombo
Summary: A poem from Lapis Lazuli's perspective.





	Blue Rock (From Lapis' Perspective)

**Author's Note:**

> You expected the next chapter of Remembering to Feel? Too bad. It's just an angsty Lapis Lazuli poem. Baka.
> 
> Like all lesbians, I love Steven Universe, and like all stereotypical lesbians, I am filled with melodramatic angst, angst which I am only capable of expressing through writing a poem from the perspective of a character from a children's cartoon.
> 
> I'm not sure how OOC this is or isn't, but enjoy.

Blue Rock

 

I really hope you don’t mean it

when you say you think I’m beautiful.

Being fucked up isn’t the same as being deep,

And really, you’ll find the shallows warmer

anyways.

 

I never told you how long I wished I could drown,

but was that because I was afraid you’d go

Or because I was afraid you’d stay?

I can’t say I care for the pressure

of being held

or of holding and

I can’t say if what I did was what

I should have or what

I had to and

 

If a child smiles at me, is it because he can’t know

what I felt, or because he can, because he does,

because he’s felt the same or at least something close?

The little rock and the big rock both clung to me amongst the waves.

One sank and one floated, and, I

(Gloomy Blue Bitch) grinned, my ice running free,

warmed by the salvage the shifting tides had brought:

that sharp, gaudy bauble

limping on scrap-metal crutches and a pointed grin.

 

The reflection I see shows no chip or fracture,

but as the sand stirs, my vision grows murky.

Can I wash my stone smooth?

I’ll take it now to the lake to try.

They’ll be here when I come back,

stained, cold or clean,

hands open to catch me all the same.


End file.
